On May 11, 2025, Mother’s Day in the United States, Jodie Foster and Alexandra Hedison embarked on a deeply personal journey to honor their late mothers. The couple, known for their private lives despite their Hollywood ties, shared a bond strengthened by their mutual understanding of loss. Jodie’s mother, Evelyn “Brandy” Foster, had passed away in 2019 at the age of 90, and Alexandra’s mother, Bridget Hedison, had lost her battle with breast cancer in 2016. This Mother’s Day, Jodie and Alexandra decided to visit their mothers’ graves together, a quiet act of remembrance that would bring them closer than ever.

The morning began in Los Angeles, where the couple shared a quiet breakfast at their home. Jodie, now 62, wore a simple navy sweater, her eyes reflecting a mix of solemnity and warmth as she looked at Alexandra. Alexandra, 55, an accomplished artist and director, held Jodie’s hand across the table, sensing the weight of the day. “Let’s make it special for them,” Alexandra said softly, squeezing Jodie’s hand. They gathered two small bouquets of white roses—Brandy’s favorite—and a bundle of lavender, a flower Bridget had loved for its calming scent.

Their first stop was Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, where Brandy was laid to rest. The cemetery was quiet, with the early morning sun casting long shadows over the gravestones. Jodie led the way to her mother’s plot, her steps steady but her heart heavy. The headstone read, Evelyn “Brandy” Foster, 1929–2019, Loving Mother and Trailblazer. Jodie knelt down, placing the bouquet of roses gently on the grass. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She traced her fingers over the engraved name, memories flooding back—Brandy’s laughter, her fierce determination, the way she’d guided Jodie through the chaos of Hollywood as a child star.

Alexandra stood beside her, a comforting presence. She placed her hand on Jodie’s shoulder, giving her space to grieve. “She’d be so proud of you,” Alexandra said after a moment, her voice gentle. Jodie nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. “She always was. Even when I didn’t deserve it.” They sat for a while, sharing stories about Brandy—her love for classic films, her sharp wit, and the way she’d raised Jodie and her siblings single-handedly after her divorce. Jodie smiled through her tears, grateful for Alexandra’s quiet support.

After an hour, they drove to Woodlawn Cemetery in Santa Monica, where Bridget Hedison was buried. The cemetery overlooked the ocean, a fitting resting place for a woman who had loved the sea. Bridget’s headstone was simple but elegant: Bridget Hedison, 1942–2016, Beloved Mother and Artist. Alexandra knelt this time, placing the lavender at the base of the stone. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom,” she said, her voice trembling. She paused, her fingers lingering on the stone. “I miss you so much.”

Jodie stood close, her hand resting on Alexandra’s back. She knew how deeply Alexandra felt her mother’s absence—Bridget had been her biggest supporter, encouraging her artistic pursuits from a young age. Alexandra turned to Jodie, her eyes glistening. “She would’ve loved you,” she said with a small smile. “She always admired your work, you know. She’d watch Silence of the Lambs and say, ‘That Jodie Foster—she’s got something special.’” Jodie chuckled softly, touched by the sentiment. “I wish I’d met her,” she replied. “She raised an incredible woman.”

They sat together by Bridget’s grave, the sound of distant waves mixing with the rustle of leaves. Alexandra shared memories of her mother—her passion for painting, her strength during her cancer battle, the way she’d always made Mother’s Day a celebration of creativity with her daughters. Jodie listened intently, feeling a deep connection to Bridget through Alexandra’s words. They placed a small sketchbook by the grave—a tradition Alexandra had kept since her mother’s passing—filled with drawings she’d made over the past year.

As the sun began to set, Jodie and Alexandra stood between the two gravesites they’d visited, reflecting on the day. They held hands, their shared grief weaving them closer. “It means a lot to do this together,” Jodie said, her voice steady now. Alexandra nodded, leaning her head on Jodie’s shoulder. “They’re with us, you know? I feel them today.” Jodie kissed her forehead, a quiet agreement passing between them.

The day ended with a quiet dinner at home, where they toasted to Brandy and Bridget with a glass of wine. They lit two candles—one for each mother—and let them burn late into the night, a symbol of the light their mothers continued to bring into their lives. For Jodie and Alexandra, this Mother’s Day wasn’t just about loss—it was about celebrating the women who had shaped them, and the love that endured through time.